Conversations at a Wedding
by Mosteyn
Summary: Three conversations that take place around Mary's and Matthew's wedding - first up Matthew and Tom talk about wedding nerves, then Sybil and Mary have a similar discussion and finally Sybil and her father talk about the future.
1. Chapter 1: Matthew and Tom

**Matthew and Tom**

As the ladies got up to leave, she slipped her hand in his and squeezed it gently, and smiled.

"Don't be too long"

He smiled wanly back, and watched her as she left the room, following her sisters and mother. Then he turned back to Matthew and they looked at each other rather uncomfortably. Tom didn't know whether this was better or worse than having Robert there. He's always liked Matthew, but Matthew had only ever known him as a servant until last night.

As if reading his thoughts, Matthew dismissed Carson and smiled at him.

"Sybil is looking very well. Marriage obviously agrees with her"

"I don't know if its being married, but being allowed to get on with her life agrees with her. Dublin might not be what she is used to, but she likes the freedom"

Matthew nodded.

"I suppose looking back it was obvious Sybil was going to do something radical with her life - and I don't just mean marrying one" he quipped

Tom smiled, somewhat dutifully. He's humouring me, Matthew thought. Old habits must die hard.

"Sybil needs to be doing something. She can't just sit idle"

"Like my mother. Although Sybil is far sweeter than Mother."

This got a genuine grin.

"I think people see that and underestimate her" Matthew continued "Her family certainly did for a long time"

"She knows what she wants and isn't afraid to go after it. And I learnt to never underestimate Sybil a very long time ago, in Ripon"

Memories of another shared evening hung between them, an evening of blood and fear and recriminations. That was when I first asked Mary to marry me, Matthew thought. Oddly, he'd not thought of that evening in a very long time. It seemed part of another life. And Tom, he wondered, was he in love with Sybil even then ? He's remembered noticing the panic and concern etched on the young chauffeurs face when they'd seen Sybil's body lying on the ground. There had been something else Matthew had noticed but had not recognised for what it was at the time, a frustration that he'd had to surrender her care to Matthew - a palpable desire to protect her, that now made sense.

Tom Branson must be a patient man, he thought.

"Mary says that Sybil really doesn't care what anyone thinks."

"No. She doesn't."

Matthew sighed, reminded of the conversation he'd had with Mary at Christmas about Pamuk.

"I always seem to be underestimating Crawley women."

Tom smiled.

"Being married to one of them will cure you of that," he said, "its a lot easier figuring out what is going on in their minds when you live with them."

"And have you got Sybil figured out yet ?"

Tom shook his head and grinned.

"Only when she wants me to."

Another awkward silence ensued, as Tom slowly swirled his Lordship's best Irish malt around the bottom of his glass and took a sip. It really was very good, not as good as you could find back in Dublin, but as good as any Englishman was likely to have. Matthew started to worry the tablecloth with his fingertip, lost in thought.

"What's it like, being married ?"

The question took Tom totally by surprise. He studied Matthew's face, but his gaze was only met by Matthew's equally earnest one. It seemed he really wanted to know. But wanted to know what ? Surely the Earl of Grantham's heir would be living a very different married life to that of an Irish journalist…

"What do you mean ?"

Matthew laughed a little nervously.

"I don't really know, to be honest. It's just that here I am, getting married in two days, and I can't really say what my life is going to be like. I mean - I know I want to spend my life with Mary, but ….it's the details I can't seem to imagine. I've almost always lived with Mother, so the idea of living with someone else is rather…..odd. I suppose I mean, is being married to Sybil what you'd thought it would be ?"

If Tom was honest, he'd not really ever imagined what day to day life with Sybil would be like - true to form, he had blithely thought that once married, the details would work themselves out. And he had largely been right. Their first month of living together as man and wife had been spent learning to navigate around each other's boundaries, which had lead to some furious fights, followed swiftly by some equally memorable making up. Whilst both were willing and eager to share their bodies with the other, it took longer for their home to become truly shared. Now he couldn't imagine not living with her.

"I'm not sure I really thought about being married to Sybil in that much detail. I just knew I wanted to wake up next to her every morning, to have her there, always. Beyond that…" he paused, trying to put his thoughts into words. "You think you know a person, but then you find there is so much more to know - things you would never have imagined in a thousand years. Like the fact that she snores. Or that she's really quite greedy." Or that she's as randy as I am, he thought, smirking to himself.

Matthew nodded.

"I can't imagine Mary snoring. Although maybe that is why the aristocracy are supposed to have separate rooms."

"Bloody stupid idea, if you ask me," said his prospective brother-in-law in disgust.

The silence that followed was more companionable. Matthew started to fidget with his glass.

"Look….. I know we don't really know each other, but you _are_ going to be my brother-in-law…"

He was clearly uncomfortable about what he was going to say next. Tom paused with his glass half way to his lips apprehensively.

"….you see, my father is dead, and I can't discuss this with Robert…."

Matthew began to look flustered.

'Were you nervous, about getting married ?"'

So that was it.

"As a matter of fact, yes, I was. Very nervous. I'd waited for her for five years and even though we'd been in Ireland together for more than a month, I still couldn't believe it was happening. I was worried I'd just wake up and I'd be back in that cottage, that I'd go to touch her and she'd just disappear into the vapour. Sometimes I still can't believe it. Anyway, isn't being nervous pretty much par for the course for a groom ?"

It was at this point that he noticed Matthew had started to blush furiously.

"You see the thing is…"

Matthew ran his finger around his collar as if it had suddenly got very hot in the dining room.

"The thing is, even in France, I never….. I mean, the other men would when we were back behind lines, but I never thought it was the right thing to do, never even really wanted to, I mean, and I was engaged to Lavinia….. so I've…. I've not…"

Tom mercifully cut him short.

"Well, I had, and believe me it didn't really help"

"Really ? Surely…."

"No, honestly, it didn't. Because it was Sybil."

Because it was Sybil, and I loved her so desperately, and I wanted it to be perfect for her, and I'd waited so long for it. None of those few previous fumbling encounters were going to prepare me for that, he wanted to say. So it might as well have been my first time, too.

"In the end, I think I was more nervous that she was."

Matthew smiled.

"Sybil does strike me as being pretty fearless."

A memory of his new wife, the strap of her chemise slipping off the curve of one shoulder, shyness chasing desire across her features, purposefully undoing the buttons of his shirt floated into his mind. The smirk widened and it was a good minute before he noticed Matthew was looking at him curiously.

"Look - the thing is, Lady Mary isn't going to have any expectations. So whatever happens…."

"Ah. Yes. Well…. that's not quite true…"

Tom stopped swirling his whiskey and stared at Matthew

"Sybil hasn't told you ?"

"Told me what ?"

"About…Mr Pamuk."

Matthew could see from the expression on Tom's face that he had no idea what he was talking about.

"Who ?"

"The Turkish diplomat - the one that - er - died here."

Tom frowned in confusion

"That was before my time - and Sybil has never once mentioned him in connection with Lady Mary."

Matthew suddenly wondered if Sybil even knew… if Robert knew he'd just assumed all the family knew, but Tom was obviously completely in the dark. But he had gone too far to back out now.

"Well that's the thing. He didn't die in his bed. He died in Mary's."

Tom choked on his whiskey, coughing violently for a few minutes, before he could speak again, eyes watering and breathing heavily.

"Lady Mary…..?"

Even then he couldn't finish the sentence.

"Good Lord - do you suppose Sybil knows ?"

* * *

_Next Up : Sybil and Mary talk the night before the wedding._


	2. Chapter 2: Sybil and Mary

**Sybil and Mary**

Everyone was busy. Everyone, that is, except Mary herself. The wedding had been planned with the rigour of a military campaign, so in the end, there was very little for her to do except attend dress fittings and turn up on the day. Hence, the morning before, Isobel and Cora were attending to last minute details with Mrs Patmore and Mrs Hughes, Edith was arranging gifts (Mary suspected she got a perverse sense of enjoyment from this) and Sybil had absconded to Ripon with her husband on the flimsy pretext of wanting to do some shopping - whereas Mary knew for a fact she was simply keeping Branson away from her father. Robert himself seemed intent on keeping out of everyone's way.

She said as much to Matthew when he arrived shortly after lunch.

"…and Sybil has gone to Ripon with the chauffeur."

"But I just saw Pratt going down to the station.…"

"Not that chauffeur. The one she is married to."

To her surprise, Matthew was a little short with her.

"Honestly Mary, that does you no credit. You know he's a journalist. And actually, I rather like him."

Mary turned and arched an eyebrow.

"Your family shouldn't underestimate him. He's pretty sharp"

"Sharp enough to run off with my little sister."

Matthew sighed.

"He didn't run off with her. Please, Mary, lets not fight the day before our wedding."

* * *

In the end, the abscondees returned shortly before the dressing gong summoned them upstairs to change. The previous night her father had been called to an urgent meeting with Murray about Bates and had elected to dine with him in Ripon. This left Carson as the person in the dining room most antagonistic to Tom, but he had to be content with glowering at him over the fish. Tonight however, the full gamut of family had to be run - Aunt Rosamund was up from London, and Granny and Isobel were coming too. Cora had thoughtfully put Sybil and Tom next to Isobel, who turned out to be very well informed about what was going on in Ireland and was able to ask Tom some very sensible questions about his work, as well as his growing family.

Dinner mercifully passed without drama, Robert even managing to ask Sybil about her life in Ireland without comment, Cora's ever watchful gaze upon him. Do not humiliate your daughter, it said. When the ladies retired, Sybil announced that she was tired and was going to lie down, and asked her husband to help her up the stairs. Tom took his cue to leave Matthew and Robert alone.

After a few minutes in their room there was a knock on the door and Anna appeared. Lady Sybil was sat at her dressing table taking off her jewellery and Mr Branson sat on the bed, jacket and tie already off, busy taking out his links.

"Do you want any help, Milady ?"

Lady Sybil turned and smiled at her sweetly.

"Could you just take my hair down, please, Anna ? Mr Branson does tug so when he does it."

"Hey !"

"Oh hush. You know you hate doing it".

"I'm always scared of hurting you."

"Maybe you should take lessons from Anna. Or maybe I should just get my hair bobbed."

"No. On both counts."

Sybil merely stared at him in the mirror and raised her eyebrows -_ as if I would let that stop me_, it clearly said. Anna caught the look that passed between them and couldn't help but smile.

She started to unpick the pins, aware that Mr Branson was sat on the bed behind her, paying no attention to the paper he had picked up, but just watching as strands of his wife's hair started to fall down. The couple didn't continue their conversation - both implicitly acknowledging the fact that Anna was in the room with them.

"Are you all ready for tomorrow, Anna ?" Lady Sybil asked. "It will mean a lot of work for you."

"Mrs Hughes and Mr Carson have the whole day planned out to the last minute, milady, so it should all run like clockwork."

"You know I can manage myself tomorrow, so you don't need to worry about helping me."

"What about your hair, Milady ?"

"I wasn't going to do anything elaborate, so I can put it up myself."

"I'll have time in the morning before I help get Lady Mary ready, if you want"

"Truly, Anna, I'll be fine. You'll have enough to do. When is Mary getting ready ? I'd like to be there to help. She was there to help me get ready, so I'd like to do the same for her"

"I'm to start dressing Lady Mary at ten o'clock, milady"

"Ten o'clock ! The wedding's not till one ! Does it really take three hours to put a frock on ?" Tom looked scandalised

"Oh, shut up, Tom" cut in his wife affectionately "you don't know what you are talking about. A woman only gets married once so she wants to make the most of it"

He raised a quizzical eyebrow and picked up his paper.

Meanwhile Anna had finished brushing out Sybil's hair and put it in a braid. It was shorter than she'd worn it at Downton, she noticed, and not as well cut - but then Lady Sybil was now a woman with more to do than look attractive. She had the same air of purposefulness that she'd had when she was working as a nurse. Being married suited her, Anna thought, smiling at her former mistress in the mirror.

"Is there anything further, Milady ?"

"No, thank you, Anna - I'm sure Mary and Edith won't be long in coming up, so I'll let you go"

"Goodnight, Milady. Goodnight, Mr Branson"

"Goodnight, Anna" he said, looking up from the paper.

When she had gone, Sybil carefully divested herself of her dress and undergarments and pulled her nightgown down over her ever expanding body. She sat down heavily on the bed next to her husband and began to rub her belly.

"He's woken up. He always does this after dinner. And his foot is still under my rib. Ouch - you little bugger ! " She winced.

Tom looked up in surprise. Getting used to the aristocratic Lady Sybil Crawley extending her vocabulary with expletives picked up from her colleagues at the hospital was one of the more unforeseen consequences of their marriage. It amused him greatly.

"Is that the baby kicking ?"

For answer, she picked up his hand and laid it on the top of her belly, just underneath her left ribcage.

"Good Lord, Sybil ! I felt that !"

"That's why I am convinced its a boy"

He let his hand caress the top of her stomach.

"Not long now"

She sighed.

"Long enough….. and I'll get even bigger, if that's possible. I'll be enormous by the time the baby's ready to come. I can't remember what it feels like to have a waist," she grumbled.

He turned to look at her. One of the things he loved most about her was the fact that she seemed to have absolutely no idea how beautiful she was. She was larger framed than either of her sisters, so he didn't know whether it was because she felt this comparison or whether, as he suspected, it had just never occurred to her. But one of the most delightful things he remembered from their first few months together was her dawning realisation of the effect her body had on him. She seemed to enjoy him looking at her figure, and would smile when she caught him studying her. As her pregnancy advanced and her body changed, he noticed her uncharacteristically fishing for compliments, as if needing the reassurance that he still found her attractive. Besotted as he was, Tom wondered how she could ever doubt it.

"You can't get much bigger. If you do we'll have to wheel you round in a wheelbarrow"

Sybil turned and just looked at him.

"Sometimes, Tom Branson," she said, menacingly, "I hate you."

"No, you don't," he said jovially, leaning forward and kissing her soundly.

She made a very half hearted attempt at fighting him off.

"Oh, stop it. You don't get round me that easily"

"You really want me to stop ?"

She looked at him, grinned widely and shook her head.

Some time later, muffled sounds in the corridor alerted them to the fact that the rest of the family was retiring for the night.

"That was Mary coming up", she said, going to pick up her dressing gown, "I'm going to say goodnight. I might be a while - it'll be the last chance I'll get to talk to her as an unmarried woman."

Tom looked at her uncomprehendingly, but just nodded.

"Don't be too long. It's a long day tomorrow"

"I won't"

She leant over and kissed his cheek.

* * *

Sybil knocked quietly on Mary's door, slid in to the room as unobtrusively as she could. Anna was just finishing plaiting Mary's hair. She smiled at her sister in the mirror.

"Mrs Branson."

Sybil grinned shyly

"I thought I'd come and say goodnight. Goodness knows when we'll be able to talk before bed again"

"You sound as if you miss that"

Mary, always the inquisitor, even on the night before her wedding.

"Will you ?"

Mary sighed.

"Oh darling, there hasn't been much of that since you left. Edith and I …. don't really have that much to say to each other. She would rather bury her head in one of her novels. So you see - this place has changed since you left."

"Poor Edith - after tomorrow she'll be stuck here on her own with Mama and Papa. I wonder what she is going to do."

"Well, she seems to have set her heart on marrying Sir Anthony. Although that seems a bit drastic."

"She really seems to like him though. And if she does, why shouldn't she marry him ?"

"I suppose there is no accounting for taste"

Sybil pulled a face.

"I suppose you think that applies to me as well"

Anna, realising the direction the conversation was taking, quickly finished the plait, and with a swift "Will that be all, Milady ?" discreetly disappeared.

Mary sighed.

"Well, I can't pretend to see the attraction of Branson, but then I'm not the one married to him"

"Tom's a good man, Mary. I just wish everyone would give him a little credit for that."

Mary turned round to look at her sister, perched on her bed, her hand resting on the top of the bump formed by the baby. She hadn't wanted to acknowledge this, but her sister looked well - relaxed, contented…..and not at all regretting her decision to marry the chauffeur.

"But are you happy, darling ?"

"Yes, I am. For the first time I feel like I am actually living my life, rather than ….. oh, I don't know, I'm not sure you would understand. I feel free for the first time - free to have my own life, not the one that Papa and Mama, or Granny, or the County expect me to have. Is it really so hard for you to imagine that I could be happy in Dublin ?"

Mary couldn't quite see how being pregnant and living in a two bedroom flat with no servants and a man who needed to work for a living equated to freedom, but she said nothing.

Sybil decided to change the subject.

"I'm so glad you're finally marrying Matthew. After all these years."

Mary's face softened and her demeanour shifted from older sister to a woman on the eve of her wedding.

"I can't quite believe it. After everything…. I truly thought I had lost him forever."

"I know," said Sybil "that's what finally made me make my mind up about Tom."

Her sister looked up in surprise, somewhat shocked to find she'd unwittedly played a part in bringing her sister and the chauffeur together, despite her best intentions.

Sybil explained.

"I saw the look on your face, when Matthew announced that he and Lavinia would get married after all. I just remember thinking, that will be me, if I turn Tom down. And I realised that anyone else, anything else would be second best to being with him, that I would regret it for the rest of my life. So after dinner I marched straight down to the garage and told him I would go with him. And you know what happened next."

"I wondered where you disappeared to that evening. No-one else noticed. I thought you'd gone to bed."

"I was choosing my future. And I haven't once regretted it - even with the tension in Ireland, even when Mama and Papa didn't come over for the wedding, even though Papa obviously isn't happy about this baby….."

"I think that's a bit unfair, Sybil…."

Sybil just raised her eyebrow.

"I suppose it makes my marriage real to him. I don't know what he thinks I've been doing for the last year but he obviously doesn't think I'd been living with Tom." she said with some bitterness "It'll be different when you're pregnant…"

"Yes, but it will be easy for me to disappoint him," her sister cut in, "what if I only have girls, like Mama ? In marrying Matthew, I'm taking on the responsibility of producing an heir for Downton. And I'm nearly thirty, Sybil - Mama had all three of us by then ! You fell pregnant quickly, but it took Mama a couple of years …supposing…."

Sybil looked surprised at her sisters earnestness. She'd had no idea such thoughts were preying on Mary's mind. But then she smiled wickedly, and said

"Well, you'll just have to get a move on and do your duty. I'm sure Matthew will only be too happy to oblige you"

Mary looked shocked

"Sybil ! Honestly…."

"You've got the estate to think of"

"And what was on your mind for you to produce an heir for Branson so quickly ?"

Sybil at least had the good grace to blush.

"Its not _that_ quick…. although I suppose we weren't exactly trying to _not_ have a baby…." She looked at her sister thoughtfully, as if weighing up her next question.

"Are you nervous about it ? Being with Matthew, I mean ?"

Mary's back stiffened.

"Not really. I'm sure it will all be fine."

"Yes, of course", her sister agreed, rather too quickly "I mean, I assume Matthew knows what he is doing"

"Undoubtedly"

But Sybil caught the edge in Mary's voice and her brittle smile.

"Matthew has… I mean….. Matthew's not without … experience, is he ?"

Mary looked up sharply.

"I really have no idea"

"What ? How can you not know something as important as that ? Haven't you talked about this with him ?"

"Really Sybil, its hardly appropriate…"

"But this is…. !"

"Oh and I supposed you discussed this with Branson before….'

"Stop calling him Branson," Sybil interrupted, getting annoyed, "and yes of course I discussed it with him before we got married. It was a relief to know that one of us knew what they were doing. Although in the end he was more nervous about it that I was," she said, smiling fondly at the memory. "And before you go thinking he was some sort of Lothario, he got seduced by a housemaid in Ireland, before he ever came to England" she giggled, "but please don't tell anyone I told you. He's very sensitive about it".

Of course, thought Mary, Sybil would have asked. It was only then it struck her as odd that Matthew knew all about her past indiscretions with the late Mr Pamuk, but they had prompted no similar revelations on Matthews side. She'd been so concerned about what he thought about her past conduct she'd not given any thought to his. She shook her head, irritated. It was ridiculous. Women of her status were taught to expect their husbands to have sown some wild oats. But then, Matthew was so frightfully middle class about some things….

Sybil snorted.

"Oh well - if neither of you have any idea..."

Mary didn't reply, but just stared in the mirror and absent mindedly started to twist her engagement ring around her finger.

What if Sybil were right ? What if Matthew was still inexperienced ? All he knew was she had taken Pamuk as a lover - would he be expecting her to be more worldly than she really was ? Was he going to be wondering if he would live up to the infamous Mr Pamuk ? He had promised her that Pamuk wouldn't be resurrected when they quarrelled, but maybe there were other situations in which the Turk's spectre would be figuratively standing over their shoulder. She just hadn't expected her wedding night to be one of them.

Mary wasn't sure she could tell Sybil about Mr Pamuk. It was bad enough that Sybil had by now left her sister behind in terms of experience of life, but to disclose her shame…..she wasn't sure she could bear to fall so far in Sybil's estimation.

"Mary ?"

She had temporarily forgotten Sybil was still in the room. Darling Sybil, so young, but no longer innocent, thanks to the chauffeur. She was a married woman, with a baby on the way, whose own wedding night was a year in the past. There was no way Mary could talk to her Mama about these rapidly surfacing fears, so if she were to speak of them to anyone, it would have to be Sybil.

"Actually", she said, licking her lips, "one of us has…"

Sybil looked up sharply, brows knitted, trying to work out what Mary was telling her. Her face then fell in shock.

"Sir Richard … ?"

Mary looked horrified.

"Good heavens, no, what do you take me for !"

"Then…..?"

Mary sighed.

"I suppose you would have found out sooner or later - everyone else knows - and at this rate you won't learn it from the newspapers," she began "Do you remember Mr Pamuk ?"

* * *

After the whole sorry story had come out, Sybil had got up off the bed and was pacing the room, hands supporting the arch of her back, stony faced. She seemed to be little interested in Mary's concern about Matthew's anxieties.

"So all the time you were trying to keep me from Tom, when you chased us up to Scotland, when you were supposedly trying to save my reputation, you'd already had a man in your bed ? How could you, Mary ! "

Mary hadn't expected Sybil to be angry.

"Its precisely because I almost lost my reputation that I wanted to save you from doing anything that couldn't be undone !'

"But Tom and I - we never - he never even _tried_ to lay a finger on me before we were married ! We did everything properly !"

"Running off to Gretna Green ? Is that doing things properly ?"

"You saw how we spent the night ! And anyway we were going to be married ! It wasn't some sordid little…"

"Be that as it may", Mary interrupted "I didn't want my fate to befall you."

"It wouldn't have done," her sister said caustically, "I would never have compromised myself in such a way."

Mary looked at her sister and thought, not for the first time, that the baby of the family really had gone forever. This self possessed young woman in front of her knew her own mind and went her own way. She'd lived with a man of a different class in a country on the brink of war, she'd worked, she'd run a home and soon she would be bringing up her children. She was weaving her life out of a different thread and she really didn't give a damn what people thought about it. Was that Branson's defiance, thought Mary, remembering the debacle in the drawing room - or had that been in Sybil all along ? It was then that she remembered that her darling, sweet Sybil had invariably managed to get her own way - and if she couldn't get it openly then she wasn't beyond sinking to deceit. Having shrugged off Downton she no longer had any need to dissemble, and she could be as forthright as she liked about what she wanted. And, Mary suddenly realised, Tom Branson was only ever going to encourage her in that.

Sybil stopped her pacing.

"I'm too tired to stay angry tonight," she said, "so I am going to go to bed". She paused, though, on opening the door.

"I do wish you joy tomorrow, Mary," she said "I do want you to be happy, after everything that has happened between you and Matthew. But I also want you to accept the fact that I am happy, and to be happy for me. And I want you to give Tom a chance."

Mary nodded silently.

"Goodnight then. I'll see you tomorrow when you get dressed."

"Goodnight, darling"

Sybil closed the door silently. Suddenly exhausted, Mary climbed into bed and turned out the light.

* * *

_Next Up: What happens at the wedding..._


	3. Chapter 3: Sybil and Robert

**Sybil and Robert**

Sybil sighed as she looked at Mary in the mirror, a vision in sleek, low waisted ivory satin. Her veil was a mist of tulle falling from the crown of her head, held in place by a diamond coronet. She looked stunning.

Edith handed her her bouquet and the tableau was complete - Mary, flanked by her two sisters, Edith in green silk, and Sybil in a free flowing blue dress that enveloped her body gracefully. Cora looked at her three girls and couldn't help but have a tear in her eye - her eldest daughter a bride, her baby girl a mother-to-be, and her discontented middle child looking happier than she had ever seen her.

There was a knock on the door - it was Anna, looking cool and smart in a pale blue suit.

"The carriage has just been sent for, milady. His Lordship is waiting for you at the top of the staircase. The cars are out the front for your Ladyships."

Mary smiled at her sisters and mother.

"Well - I suppose this is it, then"

Anna came and helped her gather her train and her veil, and they cautiously navigated their way out of the room and along the hallway.

On seeing his daughter, Robert was quite overcome. She looked radiant. Was this really the baby he'd held all those years ago ? He offered her his arm and they carefully made their way down the staircase. Most of the servants had already gone to the church, so the hall was eerily empty as Robert stood with his daughter to wait for the carriage.

Sybil watched all this from the top of the stairs. She could see how proud and pleased her father looked, that his daughter was marrying Matthew, his heir. She turned, to find her own husband stood behind her in his morning suit.

"We'd better go if we're not to be late."

They hurried down the stairs and out of the front door, and into a waiting car. As they pulled away, Sybil could see Lynch bringing the coach round, a matched pair of greys in the shafts. She just saw Anna start to help Mary into the coach as the car swung away down the drive and took it out of sight.

Tom grabbed his wife's hand and stroked the back of it with his thumb, turning to smile at her. She's come back from her chat with Mary last night tired and irritable. Something had upset her, but she wasn't saying what it was and he'd learnt that pressing her on the subject wouldn't help. Sybil had always been an internal creature, but a year spent living with him had made her more open about her feelings - but not to the extent that she would tell him everything straight away. He would just have to bide his time.

She squeezed his hand in silent appreciation and smiled back at him. She had to admit she thought he cut a fine figure in a morning suit, and she felt very proud of him. He was an intelligent, articulate man - take him out of his uniform and put him a suit and he would be a match for any gentleman at the wedding today. She knew a lot of the guests would have stayed at the Abbey whilst he had been working there - how many of them would associate the the smartly dressed Irish husband of Lady Sybil with the Crawley's recent chauffeur of the same name ? Robert was convinced that half the guests would put two and two together.

"But how are we going to explain him ?" he'd said, exasperated, to his mother.

"Its very simple. We don't. You'll be surprised how incurious people are, Robert. Serve them a decent champagne and Sybil could have married Carson and no one would comment on it."

"But….."

Violet was getting irritated. She put up her hand to brook further discussion on the topic.

"He is your daughter's husband, Robert, and the father of her child. What did you want her to do with him ? Leave him at home ? How would you then explain the fact that she had travelled from Ireland alone when she is six months pregnant ? Or perhaps you'd rather he put his livery back on and drove people back and forth ?"

Robert had therefore been pleasantly surprised when he'd seen his son-in-law dressed for the wedding. Even he had to admit that Tom Branson was capable of being perfectly polite, and in a suit, a cursory glance would not immediately bring to mind Robert's former employee. Perhaps his mother was right after all.

* * *

Arriving at the church, they were met by one of the ushers and shown to the family pew next to Edith and Violet. Tom looked round uncomfortably and saw, behind several rows of the Crawley's nearest and dearest, a line of his former colleagues, only to find Miss O'Brien, her curls bobbing menacingly under the brim of her hat, staring at him disapprovingly. He whipped his head back round and looked at the altar instead. He's always been intrigued by english churches - the ones he'd had occasion to visit in Yorkshire had been serene, ordered places, vastly different from the barely organised chaos of Mass in a working class Catholic church in Dublin. Downton church was no exception. Sunlight streamed in from the large window behind the altar, reflecting off the soft butter-yellow stone. The choicest contents of his Lordship's gardens and glasshouses had been put into magnificent displays of white, green and yellow. The overall effect was one of wealth and good taste.

A flurry of movement to his right, and he could see Matthew, looking immaculate and nervous, a friend of his from University acting as his best man. Isobel sat proudly behind him, beaming, chatting animatedly with what must be a collection of Manchester Crawleys and Matthew's colleagues. From somewhere behind a screen, an organ started playing and the congregation shifted restlessly in their seats, sensing something was about to happen. Sybil turned round as far as her bulk would allow and craned to see door of the church.

"Oh look, there she is !"

And there indeed she was, with her father, Anna hurriedly pulling out her train and making small adjustments to the dress and veil. Once she was satisfied, she drew quietly away and Lady Mary Crawley took her fathers arm to walk down the aisle. The organist abruptly launched into the Wedding March, everyone stood up, and the wedding began.

As soon as Mary glided past on her father's arm, Sybil took Tom's hand and intertwined her fingers in his. She didn't think she had ever seen her father so happy. Mary looked beautiful, of course, and the look on Matthew's face was very similar to that she had seem on Tom's at their own wedding - stunned and unbelieving of his good luck.

As much as she wanted to concentrate on Mary and Matthew, Sybil couldn't stop herself from watching her parents. She could see that her mother was already emotional, her handkerchief in her hand, ready to dab away any tears. Her father seemingly couldn't stop smiling, fondly looking from Mary to his wife. When the Bishop asked who gave Mary away, Sybil was prepared to bet that it was not just her mother's eyes that had tears in them.

And he _knows_, she thought - he knows what Mary did, the potential scandal that she could have brought down around this house, and yet here he is, more than happy to give her away to Matthew in front of half of Burke's Peerage. As the couple made their vows, she gripped Tom's hand harder. She had told herself all year that she hadn't really cared about her parents absence from her wedding, that in all honesty she hadn't expected them to be there, but watching Robert give Mary's hand to Matthew, she knew this wasn't true. The sadness wasn't even for herself, she realised - it was for the man sat next to her, holding her hand, and the child she was carrying. Sybil had always liked Matthew, but at this precise moment she felt a wave of resentment towards him that took her completely by surprise.

She sat stony faced throughout the rest of the ceremony, her lips barely moving during the hymns. By the time her sister was walking back down the aisle she was close to tears.

Tom had been acutely aware of his wife's increasing bleak demeanour. It was impossible not to compare this wedding to their own, so different one a year ago. His uncle had stood in for her father, a man she had barely met. Edith and Mary were the only faces she really knew in the congregation. They had married in a Catholic church, so the Mass was unfamiliar to her too. She's insisted that all she cared about on that day was becoming his wife, that she would have happily married him in the garage in a pair of his overalls if she'd had to, but he was not stupid. He knew she thought her father's blessing hollow, that she found his half hearted acceptance of her decision harder to deal with that outright disapproval. Even though she had told him that not being with him simply wasn't an option for her, it humbled him to see what she had been prepared to give up to be with him.

"Tom, I need to get some air….."

He'd kept hold of her hand and escorted her through the throng of family and friends to the front of the church, where she slipped behind the bride and groom and walked around the side of the building, before leaning heavily on a buttress and bursting into tears.

"Sybil….."

He went to enfold her in his arms but she waved him away.

He watched silently whilst she heaved great sobs that surprised even herself. Once she'd calmed down a little, he took her hand.

"I'm so sorry…."

She looked up.

"What ?"

"This is what your wedding should have been like. Your father giving you away, you mother crying, having all your family and friends here, the big do at the Abbey - and because you married me, you had none of that …."

"Tom, its not the wedding….."

"But I promise you, Sybil, I'll make your choice worth it. I know its early days yet, but I will make something of myself, I will make you proud of me, I promise you won't regret…."

"I'm already proud of you. This isn't your fau….."

But he'd stopped listening by that point.

"…and when the baby comes I promise I'll do absolutely everything in my power to make you both so happy…"

"Oh for goodness sake !"

She took his face in her hands and kissed him, it being the only way she could think of to stop him talking. He tried to pull away to finish what he was saying, but she held him fast, until he relaxed. By the time she broke from him they were both quite breathless.

"Tom, this is not your fault. And don't ever think that I regret my decision."

As if to emphasise the point, she gripped the lapels of his coat.

"Never, do you hear me, Tom Branson ? Never"

"Sybil, dear, what are you doing hiding away here ?'

Violet had appeared from apparently nowhere. In one swift glance she had taken in Sybil's red eyes and Tom's anxious look.

"Oh, hello, Granny. I just needed some air. It was a bit hot in there."

"Yes, it looked like you were getting some air " said Violet, sardonically. Sybil blushed. "Well hurry up, dear, the photographer is waiting."

* * *

Eventually, the photographer was satisfied with his shots, by which time Sybil's feet and back were aching. They had planned to walk back to the Abbey, but after waving off her sister and her new husband in the coach, she was glad to climb into a car.

The Abbey was a hive of activity as guests were welcomed for the wedding breakfast. They found themselves seated on a table with Edith and Sir Anthony. Sybil was just glad to sit and take the weight off her feet as she watched the guests settle down and the servants, orchestrated by Carson, begin to bring out the feast that Mrs Patmore had no doubt spend several weeks preparing.

Food was eaten, pleasantries were exchanged; Tom discovered Anthony Strallen was rather more well informed about european politics that most people would have given him credit for and before long they were deep in discussion. If Sir Anthony remembered him as the chauffeur, he gave no sign, seemingly pleased instead to have found an intelligent and engaging conversationalist at a wedding. Edith, feeling somewhat sidelined, raised her eyebrows at Sybil. Normally Sybil would have listened and joined in, but she was simply too tired, so she asked her sister about her plans for the future now she was the only daughter left at Downton.

Soon, however, her father was calling for people's attention as he rose to give his speech.

"...No father can want for anything more than to know that his daughter has married a good man. I am happy to say that I consider myself lucky that Matthew Crawley is such a man - a man of honour, a kind man, a brave man...a man I am proud to have as my son-in-law"

This paean to Matthew revolved in Sybil's head. She couldn't help but agree with her father - Matthew was a good man, a very good man, possibly a better man than Mary deserved. Then so was her husband. But of course, Tom had been a servant with ideas above his station and the nerve to think that he could make an Earl's daughter happy, whereas Matthew was the heir to the estate. But Matthew, everyone seemed to be forgetting, was until a few years ago, a priggish, middle-class solicitor. If Patrick hadn't died, Sybil wondered, would her father be so happy for Mary to marry Matthew ? Would there be this huge wedding at Downton ? Or would it have been at some grubby industrial church in Manchester, with a fleeting appearance by the Earl and Countess ?

"Are you getting tired ?"

"I'm fine." She was shorter with her husband than she meant to be, and caught his slightly wounded look. She knew he was concerned, and that he wasn't sure what was wrong, that he was mostly likely still thinking that she was dwelling on the strained relations with her family and feeling responsible. She really should tell him, but she was too ashamed of what she saw as her father's unfairness to let him know what was on her mind. Nevertheless, she relented a little and took his hand.

"Really, Tom, I'm fine. I just needed to sit down."

"Is the baby giving you trouble ?"

"No, he's gone back to sleep. Don't worry, darling, honestly. We're both fine."

He looked at her dubiously, but didn't press it.

Robert was finishing his speech, asking people to rise and toast the happy couple.

After that, people started to circulate. Tom and Sir Anthony were still in deep conversation, so Sybil wandered over to talk to Isobel. Shortly after sitting down, she caught sight of her father talking to Evelyn Napier and his new wife at at the next table.

"And of course its so nice to see Lady Sybil and her husband here," Evelyn was saying "I imagine its quite tricky visiting Dublin at the moment"

"Er, yes, indeed it is" agreed Robert.

"I was talking about the situation over there with Lady Sybil's husband...fascinating chap - some very interesting perspectives. Now he's writing for one of the Manchester papers, I'll be on the lookout for his articles. I suspect a few of my colleagues in the Home Office could benefit by reading them too."

Sybil couldn't help but beam at this.

"And so charming !" said Evelyn's wife. 'You must be very pleased to have two of your daughters so well settled"

Robert coughed.

"Yes, Indeed..."

Sybil's smile faded.

Robert and Cora continued to work their way around the room, ensuring they welcomed each of their guests. By that time, a small string ensemble were assembling and the ballroom began to be prepared for dancing. Sybil realised that her father had said nothing to either herself or Tom all day. By this time she'd gone past upset and was fuming, and tears of rage were threatening.

"I'm going to sit in the library" she announced rather abruptly. Tom had noticed her dark look, and gently laid his hand on her arm.

"Sybil, why don't we go and ..."

"Im not a baby, Tom", she said crossly, pulling away from him sharply. "I just need some time on my own" and with that she got up and stalked off.

It was only then that Tom looked up to see that the Earl of Grantham had just witnessed the exchange from across the room. He did not look at all pleased. The look he was giving Tom clearly indicated that he thought him the sort of man capable of manhandling his daughter. Tom looked back indignantly. Robert watched his daughter go into the library and made to follow her.

Sybil was sat on one of the sofas by the fire, her head in her hands. She was so awash with emotions she literally did not know what to do with herself.

"Has he ever hurt you ?"

Sybil looked up to find her father standing in front of her.

"What ?"

"I saw you just now, pulling away from him. Does that happen often ?"

Sybil just stared at her father as she realised what he was driving at.

"Is that what you thought that was ? Is that the sort of man you think he is ?"

"It wouldn't surprise me"

Sybil bristled.

"For your information, Papa, my husband has never laid a finger on me. He may let his mouth run away with him, but he's not at all a violent man. And the fact they you can even think that shows how little you know him"

Robert raised his eyebrows.

"I'm merely concerned that he is not mistreating you, especially now..."

He gestured vaguely in Sybil's direction.

"Now I'm having a baby ? His baby ? Your first grandchild ?"

Robert caught the rising tide of ire in Sybil's voice. The last thing he wanted today was a confrontation with his youngest. He sighed.

"Sybil..."

"You've not said anything about the baby since we've been here, Papa. I don't even know if you are pleased."

Robert said nothing.

"I see. And is that because the baby's father happens to be your former chauffeur ?"

"Sybil, you can hardly expect me to be over to moon about the situation..."

"Why ? I haven't done anything shameful. Unlike my sister..." she added, bitterly.

"You know about Pamuk ?" he said, surprised.

"Yes. Mary told me yesterday. My sister sleeps with a man who dies in her bed and carries his corpse half way across the house, and you are quite happy to walk down the aisle with her on your arm and hand her to your precious Matthew. All I did was marry someone you thought wasn't good enough for me, just because he couldn't keep me in the style in which you think I ought to live and you wouldn't even come to the wedding, even after you gave us your blessing. Do you really believe that marrying someone from a different class is more shameful that what Mary did ?"

"None of this seemed to worry you a year ago. You were quite determined to marry him, I seem to remember, even without the approval of your family. "

"And I would again, in the blink of an eye. But it upsets me that you always think the worst of him, and yet you don't even know him. He's a decent man, Papa, a very decent man - a good man, an honourable man. And when you think of the things this family have said to him…."

Robert thoughts flew immediately back to the Grantham Arms, where he'd tried to buy his prospective son-in-law off. The young man was having none of it. He wondered if Sybil knew. He suspected not, because he was sure that there would have been an almighty row about it by now if she had. Maybe there was a shred of honour there after all, if Branson hadn't told his wife.

"I know you think he can't look after me, Papa, but he does - everything Tom does, he does for his family. Just because he doesn't lock me up in a mansion with nothing to do all day doesn't mean he doesn't give me a decent life."

Sybil got up at this point and started moving restlessly around the room.

"The very fact that we are here shows that - it was Tom's decision to come back to England, not mine. I know how badly he wants to play a part in the fight for Ireland, and I would have stayed, but he was adamant he wanted to put his family first. He's compromised his ideals to keep us safe. He's given up a lot. He's very good at what he does, and he was beginning to be noticed, to make a name for himself and have his opinions heard. So don't ever tell me he doesn't look after us."

Robert could tell that she was no longer in control and would carry on regardless.

"But as far as you're concerned, he's the chauffeur and he'll always be the chauffeur, no matter what he does, however hard he works, whatever he achieves. He could become the Editor of the Times and he's still be the chauffeur to you. It's alright for Matthew to be a solicitor, because he's your heir. But because Tom has to make a living..."

"You can't compare Branson to Matthew..."

"Whyever not ? Papa - the only reason Matthew isn't still just a middle-class solicitor is because Patrick was on that boat ! If Patrick was still alive, would you have learnt to love Matthew the way you do ? Or would you have just dismissed him as a middle-class prig ?"

Robert began to look uncomfortable.

"All I ask is that you give Tom a chance..."

"Sybil - the man thinks that I am an anachronism. Given a chance he would tear down everything that is dear to me, everything I have spent my life building up and protecting..."

"I know he sees the world differently to the way you do, Papa, but if you knew where he came from, maybe you would have some insight into why he believes what he does. And its not true that he wants to tear everything down. He's not a revolutionary - he believes in progressive change through the political system, even in Ireland."

She looked at him almost contritely.

"Please, Papa, just give him a chance. If not for me, then for this baby. I don't want to bring him here and watch his father being treated with contempt."

They looked at each other in silence.

"You think its a boy then ?"

She nodded.

A vision of a small boy, with Sybil's dark hair running across the park came unbidden into Robert's mind. There hadn't been a boy in this place for nearly half a century. He looked at his daughter and saw not another man's wife, but his little girl, just come down from the nursery to say goodnight to her parents, or to confess to some imagined crime. It was a fleeting illusion, disturbed as Sybil moved restlessly, putting her hand on her back. She was wilful, headstrong and totally dismissive of the duties demanded of her by her place in society, but she was still his beautiful, kind-hearted daughter and this child would be his grandson. Even if she was married to the chauffeur. He supposed he would have to stop calling him that.

"Alright. But I am not promising anything. And it will take time."

His daughter broke out into a wide grin that he hadn't seen on her face since she arrived. She reached up to embrace him, forcing him to feel the baby between them.

"Oh thank you Papa, thank you ! You'll come to like him, Papa, I know you will."

"Yes, well, I'm not sure about that..."

"Oh there you are, Sybil, I hope I am not interrupting anything..." Violet surveyed her son and granddaughter and summed up the situation before her. "That poor husband of yours has been talking to SIr Anthony all evening. He needs someone to rescue him. Edith is looking quite put out. Why don't you go and dance with him, dear - I seem to recall he's a rather a good dancer..."

Sybil smiled. "Thank you, Granny. I think that's rather a good idea...I'll go and find him."

Violet looked at her son impassively.

"She's not the first Crawley to have a parent disapprove of their marriage, Robert" she said pointedly "but Sybil at least stands up for her eccentric choice of husband. You should give her credit for that"

He sighed.

"I do, Mama, I do"

A small string ensemble was playing a foxtrot as she came back into the ballroom. Tom was, as Violet had told her, still sat talking to Sir Anthony. Edith had wandered off. Sybil moved quietly behind him and placed her hands on his shoulders.

"I'm very sorry, Sir Anthony," she said, sweetly, "but I must claim my husband for this dance."

Tom looked up at her and smiled.

"You're not to tired for a dance ?"

She shook her head, smiling back at him.

He lead her out onto the floor, gathered into hold and they moved round the floor smoothly, as Violet was correct and Tom was indeed a good dancer.

"Did your father tear me off a strip ?" he said, changing directions effortlessly

"I didn't give him the chance"

He leaned back slightly, to get a good look at her face.

"I don't want you to fight with your father about me, Sybil. We just need to give him time. He'll come round."

"You always say that"

"Because I believe it to be true," he smiled "he loves you - but I don't want you to fret about me. I can put up with your father. I've got broad shoulders."

Sybil's eyes travelled involuntarily to where her hand was placed on his right shoulder and she absent-mindedly ran her thumb along the length of his collar bone. A slow, smug smile spread over his face. He knew she admired the width of his shoulders and the breadth of his back.

Sybil looked up and caught his expression and shook her head.

"_So_ full of yourself..."

He laughed, and pulled her close enough to whisper something in her ear, and then gave her a soft, quick kiss. Mary, watching from her table, arched her eyebrows at the impropriety.

"Honestly..."

"Oh, I don't know," said Matthew, drawing his new wife closer to him, "I rather think he's got the right idea..."


End file.
